


Lies

by mozesandme



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozesandme/pseuds/mozesandme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I love you." </p><p>"...."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The dark is a safety net for him, so he doesn't have to look into your eyes, or see the pale skin under his fingers. He can close his eyes and imagine. You're not the one he loves. You know it, he knows it, everyone knows it. You feel trapped and suffocated in the darkness, and sometimes you'll cry, and if he's in a good mood he'll wipe those tears away and coo loving words into your ears. But they aren't meant for your ears....They're meant for someone he lost so quickly, that he couldn't get over it. So every night, you let him hold you as if you were dear to him, and you let him feed you all these lies as he marks your skin. It's not your skin he's marking, it's his old love, the one he lost his heart to, the heart he will never get back. Some days you actually hate him for leaving the blond, all you want is him happy, you want to see him do a small little smile again, and it's eating you up from the inside out, all the anger and the pain. All because you do love him, though you know he'll never see you as John Egbert. No. He'll always just see you...As a ghost of his past lover, someone he never fell out of love with.

Today is like any other day, he ignores you until dusk, and you steer clear of him at all costs. Until darkness over comes the city, and everyone goes out to party, even your friends, because they have boyfriends or girlfriends they love and want to be with. You have Dirk Strider. More like he has you. He rarely talks to you other than during the evenings or when he wants something. 

That something is always sex. 

Sometimes you think you can tell him to go fuck off and watch some porn, but then you remember. 

You need him. Just as much as that sorry excuse of an asshole needs you. It's a trade off honestly. You do what he wants, and he gives you the ecstasy, though he's always usually withdrawn. 

Tonight he's really into it. As soon as you set your book bag aside he's on you, pressing you up against the door, lifting you up, and you easily wrap your legs around his waist and his lips are practically devouring yours. Oh god you love it. He's close and he's so needy, cause you can already feel him through the tent in his jeans as you roll your hips down on him, arms thrown around his neck lazily as he keeps you pressed there. He finally breaks the messy, yet passionate kiss, and there he goes again, carrying you towards his dark room, where the lights won't reveal you're light skin, and your blue eyes. You open your mouth to detest, but nothing comes out, and all you can do is whimper as he pins you to his already messy bed, hips rutting against yours as you met his thrusts eagerly. Your fingers trailed up along his shoulders and then his neck, curling tightly into the small wisps of hair at the back of his neck, tugging gently and earning a nice moan from the blond. 

"F-fuck..." He panted, and you could tell that his name was on the edge of Dirk's tongue, and you knew he wanted to say it aloud, but he bit it back as best he could, and for a moment you faltered, wondering why. Why did he care now? It's not like he ever truly cared any of the other dozens of times you both had screwed around in his bedroom.

You want to say something, but don't. You'll let him have this moment, just like all the other times before. His hands are demanding as they carress your body, tugging your hips up sharply to meet his. Your legs are still curled around his waist and you gasp, shuddering with a low moan. 

"D-dirk." You moan, fingers hooking into his shirt and tugging roughly to get your point across. He finally pulls back, and even if you had wanted to remove the shirt yourself, he did so anyways, and if you focused enough you could see the outline of his body. Next was your own shirt, but he didn't stop there, no, he stripped you of everything, and honestly it was odd how fast he was going, it was like the viel the darkness casted wasn't enough to spark his imagination tonight. He saw you as John, but he still didn't adore you, didn't whisper sweet nothings into your ears.  
Closing your eyes you let him ravage your body, every second a mix between pain and ecstasy as he teased at your hips with his teeth and tongue. 

The room was dark even after he had cum inside of you multiple times, each time harsher than the last, like he was punishing you for not being the real thing. You had some bruises and bite marks covering your shoulders and waist, and tonight was just one of those sobering nights. He was so desperate sometimes that it actually made you sick to your stomach. Your body was sore and in pain, and you were so tired, but you got up and took the time to wash off. You weren't sure what exactly you were trying to wash off, was it him? Or was it your own thoughts, maybe just your whole existence. You stayed until the bathroom was covered in steam, practically suffocating you as you pressed your forehead against the damp tile, droplets of water teaching their way down your shoulders and neck, making their way down the back of your legs. 

Getting dressed again, you leaned over his sleeping form, and even though you hated him sometimes, you could still feel your heart flutter at just a glance at him. So you left a kiss to his forehead, and left. Once you reached outside you paused and glanced either way. You needed your fix, because it was nights like this that made you want to cry again. It made you want to just forget. You may have been pleasing him and yourself sexually, but emotionally you felt trapped inside a never ending story where you're just the guy who was in it for the sex. The guy who thought he could have him fall in love with him. You didn't want to be just that guy and it was eating you up. The love and the hate, the frustration and long nights. What ate away at you the most though was that everyone kept telling you, 'he's just using you.' You knew that, but what they didn't see was that you were using him too.


	2. Chapter 2

When the smoke fills your lungs, you hold it there for longer than you should have, letting it fall from your open mouth in a puff of white fogged smoke. A cough rakes through your body, and you grimace at the chuckle that sounds right next to you. 

"Thought you had quit." Came that deep husky voice, and you turned, offering a wide eared grin.

He returns it with one of those special smiles that you always love to see on his face, because he's your friend and he deserves it. Everyone deserves it but you. 

"Yeah well, so did I." You snicker, and you let out a spluttered cough, the feeling of the smoke scratching away at your lungs and throat just makes you calm, especially after the night before. Once again you haven't heard from the male, not a word, not a phone call or text, and you try to convince yourself that you just don't give a shit, no. You do. You give all the shits, and everyone can see it, except for him. Or maybe he just ignores it to spare himself the guilt of burning down your own emotions just so he can imagine having sex with his ex every fucking night. You shift in your seat, feeling anger and sadness start to broil up in the pit of your stomach again, and take another, long long puff. There's a sigh, a pitying sigh, and the seat next to you creaks with old age and weather abuse over the past few months as he takes his claim in it, elbows jutted out to rest on the dirty arms, and for a second you feel yourself start to say something, but shut up before anything comes out, because the furrowed eyebrows and slightly frowning line to his mouth, tells you that he's about to say something, and you better listen. 

"You should quit." He sighs, and you sputter a laugh, the feeling washing at the hurt deep inside you, but just a little. 

"What are we talking about here Dave? Dirk or this?" You hold up the lit cigarette and take another puff, letting the smoke free itself from you lungs only a second later with a shake of your head and a snicker. He's quiet, and you can tell he's trying to think of a way to say something and not upset you. Oh well....Too late... You think, because right now you're beyond upset. You're down right broken into little pieces.  
Truth hurts like a bitch doesn't it? Yeah it fucking does. 

"Both." He says sternly, and god you hate it when he tries to act all grown up and like your dad. "You need to move on John. Find someone else that actually deserves you. One day he's gonna leave you, and you're gonna be stuck in the middle of no where, with no one." He sighed, and you could tell he had been holding in those words for so long, and now they were out, he was relieved. 

"Huh, leave him for you?" You ask, and you know you're right when his eyebrows shoot up. "Dave, it's never gonna happen, it's funny cause you can't even take your own advice." You sneer, and you look away, because you know how deep that must've dug. It was no secret Dave had a thing for you, and you had used to have a thing for Dave....At least until Dirk came along and suddenly Dave just didn't compare. Silence made your heart hurt even more, because you knew he was recovering from the harsh blow. The chair creaked as the pressure was relieved from it's old and worn bones, and there was a soft pat to you shoulder, though it was far from friendly. 

"I was done waiting years ago John. All I want is you happy, not in a mess like you are." He sighed, and you didn't know what hurt worse. The fact that he wanted you happy, even after you had practically slapped him in the face and broke his heart for the past seven years, or the fact he was over you. You're not sure why they both hurt, and honestly you thought you were too cold to even care, but no matter how much you tried to convince yourself, it always mattered, not matter how many days and years you spent telling yourself that it didn't matter. You don't stop him as he leaves, and he doesn't really leave, he just goes back inside to crash on your bed, while you finish off the rest of the cigarette and flick the bud over the balcony of the apartment, watching it fall fall fall all the way down. Would that kill someone if they fell? Or would it just injure them? You glance up at the few apartments above you and then the roof. The roof would definitely kill a jumper. These thoughts aren't new, they occur every day after being with Dirk, not even. You just don't know what you should feel more towards the blond. Hatred, or love? You struggle to peel yourself off the balcony and enter the small apartment, locking the door behind yourself. 

"Done waiting huh." You sigh to yourself, and you can hear his music going, and you don't know what to think. Was he just lying, or was he actually done? You trail into the kitchen, grabbing a beer and having it meet your lips as you indulge in the bittersweet liquid, already eager to forget, just forget it all. The futon feels amazing under your body, which is still sore from the abuse it had handled from earlier on. You're able to finish off the bottle. Head spinning and fingers too relaxed to actually keep a grip on much of anything. You get up and grab another. You haven't drank anything like this in a while, and halfway through the second bottle you pass out. 

 

Waking up is a disaster. Your eyes creak open, and the dark room helps soothe the headache you now harbor, but the reality of the day before doesn't help as it rams into you. You're in your bed and not on the futon, the covers neatly tucked around you, and you wonder if you threw yourself at Dave at all the night before. You doubt he'd take any advantage over you, especially while half drunk and half awake, plus your clothes are still on, except for your shoes and socks as well as pants. He must've left early this morning, for work or whatever. He usually isn't home unless his movie is almost out or he takes his work home with him, which he does most of the time. You sometimes help him create more funny scenes, and good plot lines, and for once in both of your lives you both actually are smiling and laughing, no stress, no worries, and no pain. Those nights are the best, because you forget about Dirk and your messed up relationship with him, and you forget about the pain you've caused Dave over the years, and for once he takes off those shades, and you let go of everything, and you both just have fun. Joke and play around like you used to, and sometimes he'd have music playing and he'd drag you along in a simple waltz, snickering every time you stepped on his toes, and even then you'd stick out your tongue and he'd just grin and laugh, and you would too.  
The thought helps you relax a bit, and wash some of that lingering pain away. It feels nice to remember the good things about life, but so often are the bad things.  
You stand, stretching and popping your bones, fingers threading and pushing as you pop your knuckles, only for your shoulders to sag as you stumble from your dark room. You were wrong. Dave hadn't gone in early today, you were sure he had but yet his body laying asleep on the futon said otherwise, and for a second you couldn't help but smile, because he stayed. He was weary, but he stayed none the less. 

Slipping into the kitchen, you grabbed a bottle of water and a pill of aspirin for the pain and the headache, and off to the warm shower you went. You stayed till the steam suffocated you, just like your feelings, and you gave yourself a bright red crease on your forehead from leaning against the tile, just letting the water run and run and run, spreading all over your body. By the time you had dried your hair and return to the living room, still damp, yet the towel hooked neatly around your waist, he was up and about. You smirked and chuckled at his mess of blond hair, and padding into the kitchen where he sat, waiting for his coffee to finish up, you ran your fingers through the messy hair. He let his head fall back with the motion of your slender fingers, crimson eyes gliding over your own deep blue eyes as he cracked a small smile. Letting your head tilt you grinned in return, pulling away.

"Why'd you stay?" You finally ask, and his small smile disappears as his eyebrows furrow, and for a second he opens his mouth, but then closes it, opening it again. You're about to tell him to not worry about saying much of anything, it was just you were curious as to why, because no body else would've stayed. Not for the world, yet he did. You open your mouth to let him off the hook, tell him that he didn't need to worry about telling you why, you would find out someday, or never, either worked, but his arms circled around your waist, pulling you close as he hugged onto you, face nestled at your hip, and honestly you tried not to squirm or laugh because of the stubble on his face that grazed your sensitive flesh. 

"Because I need you." Was all he murmured, and you barely caught it with your ears, but barely was enough to push down the feeling of laughing, of wanting to laugh. Your stomach twisted and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him and hold him close in return. It's all you could manage to do, because all these years, he has needed you, and you know how he feels, to want to be needed by the person you love, but you aren't, you aren't needed and you know it.   
It's unhealthy, for you and for him. For all of you.   
But yet, as evening came, you slipped away from Dave's arms to fall right back into the arms that held you down and held you as you were someone else. 

As if John Egbert didn't exist.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, you're at home again. Laying on your back. 

Staring, staring, and staring at the ceiling.

What's the point? You roll onto your side, bottle clutched tight, your stomach churning, your eyes scratchy from a sleepless night. God there's no way you can sleep now, with all these thoughts racing in and out of your mind. Some you have to listen close to hear, the thought just above a whisper, sending chills down your back. Those are the worst, those are the ones meant to kill, and the ones meant to wound are screaming and screeching, echoing through your brain, because there's nothing else to really think about.

Your head is pounding, full of screams and shouts that it wants the burst out into, and from the exceptional amount of tears you've spilled in the last hour or two. 

Too much thinking...Just too too much. You squeeze your eyes shut and curl, curl tight. Bottle forgotten, you hold yourself into a little ball, squeezing to see if you can shrink any smaller....Maybe you can shrink small enough to disappear. You know it's stupid to think like that, and you're not at all surprised when it doesn't work, and you let out a wail of utter disappointment, more tears spilling, falling and falling, like the blood of a recently mangled arm, and god those stupid god damn tears won't stop. 

"Stop crying, stop fucking crying." You whisper harshly to yourself, rocking a bit, and then you slap both hands to your face, digging your fingernails into the flesh right bellow your eyes. "Fucking stop!" You shout, and the tears keep coming, like waves of the ocean. They won't stop, even at your own command. Why do you even still have emotions? 

No matter how much you pretended, how much you shoved and pushed away, they were still there, lurking and waiting to make a fool of yourself. Your nails start to rip at your skin, and it hurts too much, but you suddenly have all this anger, something you wish you could scream out, and even as your body shudders and you make pathetic whines and whimpers, tears still spilling and spilling, you know it wouldn't help...So you fall forwards, fingers digging deep into your pillow, and biting into the cotton you scream. Scream and scream and cry and wail, and you feel so disgusting you just want to fall, and die. You want to lay there everyday and feel emotionless, nothing. That sounds so amazing. No more pain....No more anger and frustration. You scream again, and you can feel your body shaking, ready to give out as you muffle yourself from the world. Apparently not someone who had been awake. 

You regret forgetting to lock your door, because it opens. It doesn't just open though, it's like a burst, and light drains in, and really you must have looked so pathetic there, body shaking, tears everywhere, and wails of agony emitting from your body. 

"John! Jesus christ!" And you knew it was him, who else would it be? He's the only one who's around, who ever stays the nights, and honestly he practically lives here. Everyone else has their things to do, they don't have time for a sorry excuse named John Egbert. You're enveloped by strong arms, and you easily let go of the pillow, and you're blubbering and hyperventilating as you try to explain yourself, but you can't, your words are all drowned in your sadness and pain, tears still going, and you never knew you held in this many tears before. You're warm as he holds you close, and he's saying something, you're not sure what, but he's saying it over and over again. His shades are gone, and through your bleary eyes, you can see those red orbs meet yours, and he keeps on saying something, and you want to know what...what is it he is saying, but your ear drums are thrumming and you skull feels like it was about to implode, and you wish it would do so already. 

"Shh...Sh...I love you...I love you..." He murmured, and when those words hit your ears, you hiccuped and watched him as he watched you. Tears stopped, and even though you felt shitty, you felt calm at the same time, staring up at those orbs of his, and his tired looking face. He must have been sleeping on the futon again....No wonder how he heard you scream. His fingers brushed at your cheeks, and for the first time, you saw tears in his eyes as they searched you face worriedly. 

"D-Dave?" You stuttered, voice hoarse from all the screaming you had done. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut tight, wiping those same tears away with a shaky hand. 

"I'm sorry John....I'm sorry I'm not enough....I'm sorry I don't know what to do, and I'm sorry I don't see these things earlier...." He's rambling now, and his voice is shaky, and you can tell he's close to a complete break down, so you reach up and cup the side of his face dotingly, and all you can do is watch him as he watches you. 

"Let it out." Is all you say, and that's all it takes. He breaks, and you're still wrapped tight in his arms as he holds you, sobbing into you as he shakes, and you watch him, and pet his hair, trying your best to soothe him, and you think while all this is happening.....That....

He's just as lost as you. 

And....

Just maybe....

He wants to disappear too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter! just wanted to give it a little more depth on the relationship between dave a john 
> 
> it would be pretty nice to be emotionless honestly


	4. Chapter 4

I love you

I love you

I love you

That's all you can remember, and tears, and apologies, because he knows he's not enough. 

Is he? You're not sure, but the way he held you the night before, and waking up this morning, pressed so close. His arms felt more at home than Dirk's love did at the moment. He made you feel more wanted, like you weren't Jake English anymore, no, you were John Egbert and no one else. It made you feel warm thinking about that, and in fact it made you feel so warm inside at the time, that you had curled closer into his arms. He had cried himself to sleep practically, and you had let him hold you tight as he did so, because at the time you were so stunned at what you had managed to think up. You had never thought before that maybe.....Just maybe...He had wanted to disappear just as badly as you had wanted.  
Maybe he curled up into little balls, hoping and wishing that maybe if he curled tight enough, he'd become nothing, and no one would notice. But you would. And you know that if you were to disappear, he would notice, because he's the only one who ever stays.

It doesn't really change much though. Your heart aches for him, because you understand the pain, but it lingers with him. 

He who doesn't talk to you unless he's wishing you were someone else. 

You're not sure if he knows about your affections towards him, you wouldn't be surprised if he didn't....You linger in Dave's grasp, even though it feels right...but wrong...Peeling yourself away slowly, you slip on your glasses and fix up his messy hair a bit, tracing his skin idly. You cared. Of course you cared, you cared enough to let him hold you as he cried, you cared enough to at least pretend sometimes, because you just wanted to see him happy. Was that love? Or was it the obsession of having your feelings returned by one who never would?  
It never made any sense, and probably never would...You needed to stop thinking about such stupid things... 

Hell. 

You needed to stop thinking, but you couldn't.

You took another shower, again, this time until your skin started to peel, you can't remember how long you sat in there that time, much longer than an hour for sure, and when you stepped out and took in another painful breath, the world dulled. 

What was the point? What was the point of letting Dirk use you? You would never build a normal healthy relationship with him, let alone a family, and he didn't love you. 

No. 

You could do that with Dave though, even if it might be a lie. It would be better than nothing, honestly.  
He's awake, and watching television, and for some reason, you take a seat, because you can feel that he needs the company, especially after last night, after the pitiful tears and apologies. 

It's quiet, except for the background noise of laughter, and it's a comedy that's on, and honestly they just anger you more than make you laugh...god when was the last time you were truly happy? 

Before Dirk...Before all of this, when it was just you and Dave, and the both of you could take on the world together, not a sad story or word in sight, hands clasped tight, walking into chaos with smiles on your faces. 

How ignorant you were then, and even now.

Your hand is warm, and you can feel his hand covering it, grasping tightly, like if he doesn't, you'll slip right through his hands. You've almost done that once. So unhealthy, your mind, it's such a filthy place, and honestly, you're not even sure how to clean it up yourself. Where to turn, what to say. Cause when you say, when you talk, nothing comes out right, the words mix, mess up, create the wrong picture.

They do that every fucking time. 

Except for now. 

Your head turns, fingers curling back, and he's watching you, shades still hiding somewhere, because you already have seen him cry, and he's not afraid to show you him. The feelings buried deep. 

"I love you." And honestly, it just is like a stab, a jab at your side, and his grip tightens when you flinch, because you know you're saying it, you're speaking those damned words. But only silence ensues. 

"...." He seems to be refusing to speak, nothing, as said....

Silence is truly golden...

He kisses you though, and for a moment, it's not his lips, it's not his hand grasping yours so tightly that the tips of your fingers are turning white. 

No. 

It's Dirk, and the kiss breaks your heart, and you can't help your body as it starts to shake lightly, but he doesn't stop there....No. His fingers release yours and they're cupping the back of your neck and waist, holding you there as his lips move steady against yours, so soft, so warm. 

When you pull apart he grasps your thighs, tugging you close and against him, and the heat is there, it's always there at this point, and his fingers move so agonizingly slow, you just want this to end as soon as it has begun because it just hurts too much, and you can feel your body shake as you try to hold yourself together, to keep yourself in one piece. He doesn't seem to notice as he nibbles at our lower lip, teasing it between his teeth as he rolls it, leaving it tingling as he presses heated kiss to your jaw and neck, leaving blazzing trails against cold and slightly damp skin. The hand at your waist tugs the towel off, and it's bundled on the floor before you know it, and you can't help but press close to him, aching for attention, even though you don't want it....

Not from him. 

No, no no. 

His kisses get lower, and soon there's marks, light bruises forming over yoour body, and you want to cry, because you're not his. 

You're not his, and he knows it, but yet he marks you everywhere he can, aching to have you, and you know he's about to. 

Though no matter how many times he takes you, no matter how many times Dirk takes you. You're no one's. No one's to own, because you live, and breathe and feel. 

Yet you ache each time with longing as he touches you, and draws those noises from you that you know he loves the sound of. And he tells you. He says he loves it, he loves you. 

It just helps the ache grow deeper, your body shaking even more as he takes you into his mouth and bobs his head up and down, blond eyelashes fluttering as he watches your face, and you wish he wouldn't, you wish he would let you hide your face away into the crook of your elbow. 

And all that, because you know, that it's easier to love something with hurt in it's eyes, and no matter the years, you don't see how. 

How. 

How? 

How can someone like Dave love you that much? 

The world is a strange place. 

Your breath is short and fast, and he won't stop, even as you arch your back an push at those blond bangs, fingers digging deep into his gold tinted hair, tugging, and he's swallowing around you, and you moan a name. You can't decipher it yourself, and you don't even try to, even after you ride out your climax into his mouth. 

Your chest aches, and even then you return the favor. You enjoy this a little more, pulling his cock out of his jeans he had thrown on, not bothering to remove his clothing as you tease. Licking a suckling at the skin, and he doesn't demand anything from you, he doesn't hiss or shove your head down forcefully. He whines and pleads, begging you to make him cum into your mouth, and you're not sure how you feel in that moment, but you feel different, different than you do with Dirk, different than how you felt at first. And you do, he doesn't hold your head down as he cums into your mouth, and you try and swallow everything he has to give, and he praises you, and for the first time after sex, you cry, because he's holding you, and kissing your face, and telling you how well you did, and how amazing you are. 

And he's telling you, not anyone else. 

You, John Egbert. Not Jake, not his old ex, he's telling you, and he's kissing you, and he's holding you. 

You hear that? 

Do you Jake? Because look what you've done. 

Look at what you have done.


	5. Chapter 5

It's terribly quiet. 

The television is off, there's no sound of the microwave going or the oven either. Nothing. Not even the sound of a faucet left running, which you knew Dave had the habit of doing, a lot.  
You lay there, and you can feel the acid in your stomach come up into your mouth as it churns, pain pulling at your gut, and pain all over, inside and out. You want it to go away, just for it to stop, but it won't. You know where he is.  
And he's not here.  
Dave that is.  
Honestly you should have seen it coming all along. He held you and touched you with love, but it was going to end sometime, because for you it always ends, someway because you were too fucking stupid to realize, to quit and just fucking love him in return, and it hurts, worse than you expected.  
You lay, and stare at the ceiling and try your best not to cry again. You have your phone laying close by, just in case he calls or texts you, because honestly? You miss him. You roll over to check your phone, having it on silent hoping you would forget about it, and forget about yourself, fading like a ghost.  
If only.  
You pick it up with shaking hands, pressing the button to turn it on shakily, sniffling as your blurry vision checks over the messages. 

None from him. 

All from Dirk. 

You feel your chest ache and throw your phone, luckily the device being saved by a cluster of your dirty clothes on the ground, though at the time you could have just said fuck it to it all. You take a deep breath, and after a second you decide you might as well see what he had to say in the first place, curiosity eating away in the pit of your stomach. Standing you pick your way towards your phone, searching through the old and crinkled clothing. The phone is finally found, and you fumble with figuring out which way it goes, turning it on and wearily checking the file that held Dirk's name.  
You feel bad as you check his texts, and for some reason he isn't asking you to come over, he's pestering you asking where you are. For a second you actually feel nice, but at the same time....You're disgusted. Why now?

You text him back that you don't want to talk right now, and your phone stays silent for a few seconds before it starts buzzing in your shaking hands.

It takes you a second to realize that he's calling you, and you honestly don't have any regret or remorse by ignoring the call, pressing that red button that probably sent him straight to your voicemail. He doesn't give up there for some reason, and you guess it must be pretty important if he's trying to reach you so badly. 

You go ahead and answer the phone the second time.

You instantly regret answering it when you hear his voice, that stupid voice, and the churning gets worse, and you feel like you want to crumple in on yourself, like a fold in time and space, and after a long shaky silence you try to open your mouth, but nothing comes out, your throat is too clenched to even produce sound and your mouth feels like it has been stuffed dry with cotton balls and you swallow hard closing your phone, hanging up on the sound of his voice because that just makes things worse, it hurts too much to stand it right now. You know you need to get your head straight, but right now you just let the pain stir and come out of you like a tidal wave washing right over you.

The phone continued to buzz and finally you answered once again, gritting your teeth. 

"Stop calling me already!!" You cried, cupping your stomach, your fingers digging into your side. Dave was gone, and he was probably never going to come back, not after some of the things you had spat at each other. It's silent for a while, and you're not sure why you wait for him to say something, maybe its because you're shaking too much to properly hang up on him, but after a few minutes his voice breaks through the painful silence. 

"I was worried....I..." His voice trailed off, and you could sense the awkwardness and concern. "I think you should come over to my place tonight." He sighed. You shook your head almost violently. 

"Hell no! I'm sick of your stupid dark room and the way you fucking touch me...I can't...." You could hear your voice shake and your words were blubbery because all you could feel was this empty hole inside of you, a new one which made the pain unbearable. 

"You know what I'm coming over there John, don't do anything stupid." His voice was low, as usual but there was a sense of worry to it. You protested, but were cut off as he hung up on you, because he was the last person you wanted to see at the moment. You threw the phone out of anger again, this time at your bed. You sat down and held your knees tightly, pain suffocating you, and your breath coming short and shaky as tears continued to roll down your cheeks. Just like the night Dave had come running in, but he wasn't here this time, and anger was starting to stir in the pit of your stomach. No, not at Dave but at yourself. Why did you have to say the things you did? Why did you have to like Dirk? Why couldn't you have just ignored him? It was worth it, but it was too late, you already fucked up, and Dave wasn't coming back, other than to come get his things.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the long hiatus I've been super busy for the past year (or two?) but I'm gonna try updating as often as I can between work and school hah so enjoy~!
> 
> P.S. I might be a little rusty for I haven't practiced in a while so please bare with me, sorry guys!

You had almost passed out by the time he finally arrived.  
He being Dirk.  
Honestly in a slight daze, your tears finally having coming to an end, and a nice comforting feeling of numbness finally washing over you. Enveloping your body and practically cradling you like a mother would her child. Then you remember that it isn't Dave pounding on the door, begging you to let him in.  
Nope. It's Dirk Strider, the last person you really wanted to see half an hour earlier. But now you're so numb you could care less as you slowly stood, stumbling a little coming to find your feet were tingling. Must've fallen asleep just as you almost had.  
"John! I swear I'll break this door down if you don't at least answer me!" Came an disgusting yet familiar voice.  
"I-I'm com-ming!" You shout, your voice cracking in between words and surprisingly you still managed to stumble to the door, fumbling with the lock for a minute before coming face to face with the person who basically started this whole mess.  
Not saying that you, yourself had a big role to play in this huge catastrophic event.  
You open your mouth to snap at him, something vicious on the tip of your tongue as you're interrupted by his arms wrapping tightly around you, squeezing slightly.  
"Jesus! You scared the shit out of me John, I didn't know what to think hearing you like that!" He practically sighed out in relief. You blinked, that moment of hesitation striking you and bringing you out of your numb haze. You manage to squirm free after a few silent moments of his body so close to yours.  
"Well I'm fine, you should go home, get some rest and maybe have sweet dreams about your lovely ex." You snap, like a cornered wounded animal, scared of anything and everything that gets too close. He clenches his jaw, the blow obviously deep, but collects himself surprisingly quick.

"John," He took a deep breath and paused, his gaze glancing over your head and around the messy apartment, slowly making their way to your own gaze. "I don't care about Jake okay? I care about you." You freeze and by instinct roll your eyes slightly.  
"Yeah right, for now anyways." You scoff, crossing your arms stubbornly. He grimaced, suddenly grabbing you by your arm, pulling you close, his eyes starring straight into your own, determination pooling in them.  
"You don't get it John, I. Love. You." He paused between each word, his voice slightly shaking at the end, but he was still determined as his grip gave a light squeeze to your upper arms before letting go. You paused, brain still hazy and pounding from all the sobbing you had managed earlier, face raw and puffy. Your heart broke and hearing those words filled with hope yet at the same time broke you down. Mixed emotions screamed inside your head, you obviously unsure if you should let him inside your emotional fortress. He didn't wait for you to make up your mind, probably slightly worried that you'd kick him out, so he scooped your limp body up into his arms. You basically pooled into his touch, melting at the sensation, a sense of calm and clarity washing over you as he held you close. You slowly wrapped your shaky hands around his neck as you sniffled, burying your face into the crook of his neck, the smell of oil and pine practically hit you. God how you loved that smell. For the first time in the past three hours you forgot about Dave, about the fight and how everything crumbled into shattered pieces. Pulling away to glance up at the other you found the both of you heading towards your couch, coming to a stop as he gently laid you down on the soft cushions. Your body practically sank into the couch as he joined you on the rustic looking beat up futon, body wrapped around yours.


End file.
